Burnt Orange at the End of the World
by cheshcat13
Summary: No better time to be reckless and stupid than the apocalypse.
1. Chapter 1

" _Absolutely not."_

" _You can't expect me to just sit here and do NOTHING!"_

" _I can assure you we want him back as much as you do, it's simply not safe for either of you. We're still in the early phases, we haven't had a successful trial and are nowhere near ready for human subjects."_

"Hey, Akatane-"

" _I don't care! You know he'd go if it was one of us!"_

" _I'm sorry, even if it was safe for you to go, there's the potential that it could accelerate the already short window we have."_

"Akatane?"

" _You can't- w-we can't- it's my- I can't just leave him like that!"_

 _A door slams shut from somewhere nearby, and the echoing of footsteps fades away down an unseen corridor._

"Akatane!" Akatane Mikumo jumps at the sound of his name, shaking his head and wiping his glassy eyes as he turns to find his coworker, Ito Reo, watching him curiously.

"Huh?" Is all he can manage, the voices that were not his own still ringing in his ears.

Ito chuckles a little at Akatane's wide-eyed bewilderment, "really in your own head today, working on that book of yours?"

Akatane groans as he shoves the heavy box of magazines to the right, wondering for a moment how it ended up in the canned vegetables aisle. "Yeah, yeah… something like that."

"Better snap out of it, Hirose is out for blood."

"Heh, when isn't he," Akatane responds with a huff and roll of his eyes as he turns back to the garbanzo beans he had been stocking before the voices began and demanded his full attention.

Ito's laugh is big and boisterous as he smacks Akatane's shoulder. It would've thrown him off-balance had he not been very aware of his co-worker's often aggressive enthusiasm. "Isn't that the truth!"

The hand on his shoulder burns and he can feel himself beginning to shake, the physical contact is too much and he knows it. "Um, Ito? Did you need something from me?"

"Oh yeah!" He says, releasing Akatane and raising his hand in the air in what appears to be excitement. Akatane does his best to stifle his sigh of relief with a yawn. "Did you hear about the fires this morning, man? Pretty gnarly stuff. The entire northeast corner of the prefecture is on fire. Still going, too. Last I checked."

Having been at work since midnight, Akatane had not. "Wha-what?" First there were the blackouts last month with no apparent cause, just entire blocks going dark and nothing the electricity companies did could bring the power back. Now fire? Could it possibly be related? The blackouts had started in the same area…

"Akatane!" Ito calls, exasperation evident in his tone, "you're doing it again."

"O- oh! Sorry Ito! It's just so strange. Do they know what happened?"

"News says they suspect arson, but they can't get in to see where the fire started. Flames are too hot, they're focusing on rescue and containment right now."

Something is gnawing at the corner of Akatane's brain, like answers he can't recall. His thumb pulls at his bottom lip as the itch grows and Ito is still talking.

"That's awful," Akatane interjects, "I hope everyone is okay."

"Yeah, they haven't released any numbers or names yet. So I'm hopeful."

Akatane doesn't have a response, already losing himself to the noise in his head. Initially, scientists chalked the blackouts up to electrical storms, but buildings keep going down and they haven't found any evidence to support the theory. Hypothetically, the fires could have come from the same source, but again, the storms are either somehow weak enough to go undetected and also strong enough to cause massive permanent power outages across the city, or it's something else. Either way, it feels a little bit like the sky is falling.

Something else too: when Akatane does manage to sleep, he dreams of flames.

* * *

Ito eventually wanders off to find someone else to discuss impending doom with, unperturbed by Akatane's sudden silence. He'd long ago accepted his coworker's ability to disappear into his own head at a moment's notice. There are plenty of other people around to talk to and Akatane doesn't notice him leave.

It's his toes colliding with what feels like a brick on the floor that knocks Akatane from his thoughts and back into the present. He yelps and leaps, grabbing for his left foot, the big toe of which aches painfully from its collision. With a grumble, he looks down in search of the culprit. Oh right, the magazines. His back cracks a little as he bends over to grab the box, securing it in his arms before checking his watch.

Seven, one more hour before his shift ends and he can head to his first class. With a sigh, he lugs the heavy box to the magazine display and begins to unpack it.

He's picking up the last of the Marie Claire's when his eye catches on the cover of the Men's Journal underneath it which seems to change before his eyes. It's Chris Evans in his Captain America costume, but it's somehow also not Chris Evans. The suit colors are correct, but the pattern is wrong. His blonde hair is longer, ending at the nape of his neck, two strands in the front defying gravity and standing on end, and his eyes are black? Or maybe the picture was just taken in poor lighting. His smile is wide and blinding, more wide and more blinding than any picture Akatane has seen of the man, though he's beginning to think it might really not be Chris Evans after all. Akatane stares and stares, his eyebrows knitting together as he rubs his right eye, attempting to (failing at) convincing himself that he's just seeing things. Man, he really needs to get some sleep.

Still, that itch in his brain grows as he stares at the image. He glances at the covers that had been underneath it, but nothing seems off about those. Just this one. He folds the magazine and shoves it into his apron pocket. He'll worry about it later.

"Akatane!" The harsh voice of his manager, Hirose, catches his attention and he looks up to find the man's harsh hazel eyes glaring at him.

"Ye-yes?" Akatane says as he does his best not to cower under his boss' dominating gaze.

"Seki called out for her shift tonight and I'm down a cashier. I'll need you to come back for second shift."

The piles of neglected homework and half-finished ideas that are currently taking up the entirety of his kitchen table beg him to say no, but Akatane nods instead. He could use the money, and a second shift means overtime he can't refuse.

"Good, be back by 1800, you're in the bucket tonight!" With that, Hirose spins on his heels and disappears before Akatane has a chance to respond.

Not thirty seconds later, the alarm on his watch sounds, signaling the end of his shift. With a relieved exhale, he dusts his hands off on his apron, picks up the now half-empty box of magazines, and heads to the back.

* * *

"This is Takahasi Keiko reporting to you from the Channel Two 'copter where I have a direct line of sight to the fires that began at approximately three this morning and have shown no signs of going out, despite responders efforts. Fortunately, there have been no casualties reported. We will be bringing you updates every hour, so stay tuned for further information. Back to you, Nakao."

Brows furrowed, Akatane removes his headphones and pulls his apron over his head. For once, he had managed to stay awake through all of his classes, but his mind was too preoccupied with his very strange morning to absorb any of the information presented to him.

When he had gone back to purchase the magazine, the man who was not Chris Evans was no longer there, instead it was the same picture of actual Chris Evans that had been on the rest of the Men's Journals. Deciding he definitely needed to get some sleep, he returned it to the rack before heading to school.

Still, it didn't stop the conversation he had heard from playing on repeat, voices he didn't know speaking urgently about... someone. Sure, he could call it his overactive imagination, he's a writer for a reason, but something about the voices had prodded at the ever-growing itch and no matter what he tries he can't get them to quiet. Or talk about anything else for that matter.

Then there are the fires. Some scientist had drawn up a graph and posted it online, citing the path the blackouts had taken and the obvious correlation they had to the random fires, positing that the two were not only related but that one may have catalyzed the other and the next fires were likely to start in the southwest corner of the prefecture. Just as Akatane had guessed.

(The thought doesn't bring him comfort though, and when he closes his eyes orange and yellow dances behind the lids, the flames that haunt his dreams and keep him awake at night have filtered into reality and he isn't sure what to think of that.)

Before he knew it, his last class was ending and he had just enough time to grab a quick bite and get started on his mid-term before his shift began.

He only managed the eating part, too lost in his head to realize that time was moving ahead without him, and, when he did remember to look at the clock, he had barely fifteen minutes to get to work. Lucky for him, he had decided to eat at a cafe close enough for him to make it. Kind of. So,Akatane shoved his things into his bag and his earbuds into place before bolting out the door.

* * *

Friday nights are generally slow, save the usual 1800 weekday rush that lasts for a couple of hours. Working people filling the pantry so that they can relax over the weekend. After 2000 the lines dwindle down to practically nothing. Most people out enjoying their Friday night or holed up in their homes after a long week.

If Akatane had the choice, he would never work cashier shifts, especially on a Friday. Sure, it's alright when the lines are so long they extend halfway down the freezer aisles and don't give him the opportunity to think, let alone make small talk. He can put his head down and get people out as quick as possible. Once the lines are gone though, he's left trapped in the bucket with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and yawn. And, of course, obsess over whatever happened to be occupying his attention that day.

It's 2214 and Akatane hasn't seen a customer since that kid came in without an ID and tried to buy a bottle of sake. He rubs his temples and does his best to focus on anything other than the apparent apocalypse or the stranger's voices in his head. His coworkers, Okane and Endo, are gossiping at the two registers behind him and he lets their words filter in, hopes they can drown out the cacophony.

"... he's so cute! I wonder who he'll choose."

"Whoever it is gets dibs, obviously. We'll leave the decision up to him."

"No fair! They always choose you!"

"Ssh here he comes…"

Akatane stifles a smile as he listens to the two bicker over what is apparently a very handsome stranger. He's so busy wondering who it is this time that he doesn't see the customer walk up to his register.

He does, however, hear their sharp inhale and the word "Deku," escaping their lips on the exhale.

Akatane grimaces at the word, a name he hasn't heard since middle school and one he had worked hard to forget.

"That's very rud-." His throat catches when he looks up at the stranger. He knows that somewhere behind him Okane and Endo are glaring daggers into his back, but he doesn't pay them much mind. The man in front of him is tall, or so it seems compared to Akatane's own (admittedly short) stature, and his shoulder-length, tawny hair is parted so that most of it hangs over his left eye, which is the same deep brown shade as his right. Though Akatane would agree that his coworkers are right, the man is very good looking, his appearance isn't what catches Akatane's attention.

He sees recognition in those eyes and the itch turns to an ache. The pounding in his head imploring him to remember a face he's never seen. They stand there, frozen and staring, until an awkward cough sounds from somewhere behind Akatane and he remembers that he does, in fact, have a job to do.

The man shakes his head a little and, when he opens his mouth to speak, an alarm rings in the back of Akatane's mind and his face pales, his vision swimming at the strange familiarity of a voice he doesn't know, but somehow does.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

For the sake of his paycheck, Akatane swallows down his discomfort at the sense of familiarity he feels when he looks at the stranger, and, before he can stop himself, "not a very nice thing to call your friend."

The small grin on the man's face looks sad, it doesn't really meet his eyes and Akatane finds himself wanting to take his words back. "I said the same thing, but he asked us to. Said having friends use it would change its meaning."

"Did it?" Akatane's not sure why he asks, it's an auto-response, anything to wipe the despair from the man's face. Maybe something to make him feel better about his own relationship with the cruel nickname.

For a moment, the man is somewhere else, his eyes far away as a smile graces his face and Akatane can't look away. "Y'know…" he says, almost reverent, "it really did."

Akatane isn't one for smiling, hasn't really, except when his job requires it. Not since his mother died three years ago and left him with no living relatives and mountains of debt he didn't know they were in. It's a foreign feeling then, as the man speaks and his lips pull taught of their own accord, rivaling that of not Chris Evans.

"I'm glad, then."

It doesn't seem strange when the man's eyes shine with unshed tears, a hint of hope peeking out from the corners.

Another cough and Akatane is suddenly aware that he is still working. With more effort than he'd like to admit, he pulls his gaze away from the man's, whose own seems to be begging him to satiate the itch-turned-ache and just remember already. The spell breaks the moment he looks away and Akatane is left feeling awkward and discomfited by the man's presence as he rings his groceries through.

They don't speak again until the man turns to leave. Akatane wishing him a kind farewell while staring just past the man's shoulder, at the magazine rack he had stocked just that morning, anywhere but his face.

"I'm Koigakubo Kisho," the man surprises Akatane by offering his name and he can feel his eyes on him, waiting. On a normal day, with a normal customer, Akatane would've said "nice to meet you" and moved on, but he's looking into the stranger's eyes before he can stop himself, his own name tearing itself from his lips unbidden.

"Akatane Mikumo."

The man nods, his lips set in a straight line and determination hidden in blank pupils. "See you around, Akatane."

It's a promise that sparks an unfamiliar (impossible, _unnecessary_ ) feeling in his chest and he doesn't have a chance to respond, not that he has anything to say anyway, before the man takes the bags Akatane doesn't remember packing and heads out the door.

He stares after him. There are white spots in his vision from the ache in his head, but he doesn't notice, too focused on the flickering of hope that's fighting to stay lit.

"Akatane, are you alright?" It's Endo that breaks the silence and Akatane turns to look back at her, his response sitting trapped on his tongue. "You're crying, do you need to take a break?"

Akatane can hardly hear her through the din. He brings his hands to his cheeks and, sure enough, they are wet.

When he dreams that night, there is a boy in the flames that no longer burn.

 **AN: Thanks for reading! Sooo what'd you think? Questions? Comments?**


	2. Chapter 2

The weekend passes in relative normalcy. Akatane dreams of a boy surrounded by flames, a fire he can't seem to feel reflected in his eyes and painting the night with hope. When he wakes, his hands ache with phantom pain, tight joints and uncontrollable shakes that wear off after a few hours. The only thing he finds strange about it is the sense of pride he feels when he looks at them and almost sees scars that aren't there.

He works graveyard on Saturday and a mid on Sunday, mostly stocking and cleaning with a quick stint on the register to cover breaks through the rush. There are no more not Chris Evans (he knows, he's checked the rack at regular intervals since the initial incident), no more handsome strangers or conversations that leave ghosts of memories that aren't his own pounding a beat against his skull. Though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about Koigakubo, hadn't spent every waking moment working over the words that carried meaning that he didn't understand, hadn't glanced at the doors every time he heard them slide open. He doesn't show and Akatane isn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned by this knowledge.

The fires haven't stopped, but they also haven't spread. The blackouts are another story, the entire perimeter of the prefecture is out now and they are moving inwards toward the center of the city. Nobody has an explanation and panic is beginning to set in.

* * *

Akatane doesn't hear his alarm on Monday and misses his first class. He has just enough time to make it for his second, so he rushes through a quick shower and throws his books in his bag, slinging them over his shoulder and running out the door.

He's moving so fast he doesn't have time to register the head of tawny hair ducking into the cafe down the street from his apartment.

On the train, he sees a girl with brown hair that kisses her chin. There's another face in hers, chubby cheeks and eyes that never fail to encourage him. When the girl looks up and meets his gaze he catches himself staring, realizes he doesn't know her after all.

He's running again, racing across campus with mere seconds left before his lecture begins. In his peripheral he sees a tall figure looking in his direction, watching him as he runs.

During lunch, he opens his textbook and finds an image of a man made of fire. These flames are harsh where the ones from his dream have grown comforting since his encounter on Friday and he can't explain the anger and resentment that he feels looking at them. He shuts the book and looks around the cafeteria, just in time to catch the deep, brown eyes staring at him from across the room.

He thinks having a stalker should make him feel unsettled, so he averts his gaze and reopens his textbook to find the flames have disappeared, leaving only the image of a man that doesn't elicit confusing emotions and increase the pounding in his head.

By the end of the day, Akatane is catching glimpses of Koigakubo at every turn. He thinks that if he is being stalked, the perpetrator is doing an awful job of hiding it. He also can't explain the sense of relief that washes over him every time he sees those brown eyes and the smile that doesn't reach them.

The calm of the weekend may as well have been the eye of the storm. When Akatane leaves his final class for the day, the sky is grey and there's a scratch in his throat. He overhears two other students discussing the fires, one of them mentions that three new buildings went up today in the same neighborhood where some of the earliest blackouts began. The scientists had been right then, Akatane wonders how long it will take before the entire city is burning.

* * *

Akatane's mind works overtime on the train ride home, his lips forming words with no sound and eyes staring unfocused at the ads above his head. The car is packed, students and business people crammed in tight and uncomfortable as they pray the next stop will be theirs.

His hand grips the overhead bar tight as he does his best to avoid touching the other travelers, the feeling of fabric brushing against his skin leaves it crawling as the taste of bile rises up in the back of his throat. He's never enjoyed physical contact, not when the only person who ever had any kindness for him was his own mother, and his aversion only seems to increase with time. Someone bumps into him from behind and he sways a little, glances up at the digital screen and counts the number of stops he has left.

The screech of metal on metal sounds from the front of the train and Akatane grabs the bar with both hands to avoid being flung into the people sitting in the seats in front of him. They've stopped dead on the tracks and the passengers around him are craning their necks, seeking the reason for the abrupt halt with identical wide-eyes. Without warning, the lights go out plunging the car in darkness and increasing Akatane's heart rate ten-fold.

"Shit." He can hear the word coming from somewhere over his shoulder and he doesn't have to look to know who it is. It's only moments before someone is grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the back of the car. Koigakubo is talking as they rush out the door, but he can't make out the words over the rising panic of the people he can't see.

There's no time to think as they stand in the open air, hazy with the smell of smoke, so when Koigakubo tells him to jump, he does.

(He never even has the chance to wonder why his palm feels warm where it had been held tight in Koigakubo's, instead of the pricking needles he's used to.)

He lands hard on the earth just as the train behind them bursts into flames.

Deep in his chest, a rubber-band snaps. He whips his head around only to realize they were the only two to make it off the train. Akatane's feet move without him as he drops his bag and goes to run into the fire, but there's a strong grip on his bicep holding him back.

"It's okay, I promise." Akatane shoots a glare over his shoulder and finds Koigakubo looking back at him, eyes wide and full of concern.

His screams are wet as he yanks his arm away, unaware of the tears staining his cheeks, "what are you talking about?! We have to go back and help. We can't just stand here. all those people." He rakes his fingers through his hair as he begins to pace back and forth, guilt seeping in and turning his heart to black.

Akatane's not sure how, but he knows it's his fault. The voices in his head, the ones he's never really been able to keep in check, berate him for his failure, his inability to help, and he's quickly losing himself in their tirade. Words flood from his mouth, too fast and quiet to be heard, and his breathing is accelerating at an alarming rate, he thinks he might collapse, but his feet haven't stopped moving.

Not until he collides with something solid and a hand finds its way to his shoulder. He's surprised when he doesn't flinch, instead, his frantic mind slows as the weight of Koigakubo's palm grounds him.

"Akatane, it's okay. You need to breathe. There was nobody else on the train." The voices stop then, and Akatane's frowning when he finally looks up to find Koigakubo watching him carefully.

"That's not true.. It's not- there were…" his words trail off as he tries to recall the faces of the other passengers, but nothing comes to mind. All that's there is empty seats and silence. Maybe he's not tired, maybe he's just losing his mind.

Before he can panic about that revelation, Koigakubo is wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him against his chest and Akatane finds himself, inexplicably, relaxing into the embrace. It's familiar and comforting in a way he hasn't experienced since his mom died, so he wraps his arms around Koigakubo's waist and releases the weight in his chest with heavy sobs.

Akatane isn't sure how long they stand there, Koigakubo holding him close while he cries into the smoke-filled night sky and the burning train highlights them in shades of red and orange. It's Koigakubo who breaks the embrace, placing his hands on Akatane's shoulders and making sure he's stable before letting go.

They stand in silence for a moment, before Akatane remembers that Koigakubo was, in fact, stalking him and he should probably leave, maybe find a new job, a new apartment even, he's not sure of the best protocol to deal with a stalker. Still, he doesn't move, instead, he throws all sense of self-preservation out the window and asks, "have you been following me?"

"Yes," the answer is quick and takes Akatane by surprise, he hadn't expected him to be so forthright with the truth.

"Oh," is all he manages. This is it, his chance to run, but he doesn't take it, decides to wait around and hear what Koigakubo has to say.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Why was I following you or why am I sorry?" Akatane rolls his eyes at the question.

"What do you think?"

"You looked like you needed help," Koigakubo replies, sincerity dripping from his tone. Akatane feels like it's not the first time those words have been said between them.

"And I'm what? Just supposed to trust you?" He's forcing skepticism now, doing his best to remain wary through the warmth in his chest that's telling him not to be.

"Do you?" The question catches him off guard and he thinks to respond of course not, but bites his tongue instead.

If he's being honest, he'd say he trusted the man the moment he'd laid eyes on him on Friday. Maybe even longer than that. So, he nods and, for the briefest second, Koigakubo's smile reaches his eyes.

"C'mon," Koigakubo says as he gestures toward the street, away from the fire, "let's get you some food. It'll help with the shock."

He probably is losing his mind, but the fire cracks and the train groans loud behind him and reminds him that the world is ending. No better time to be reckless and stupid than the apocalypse.

* * *

They end up in a hole in the wall cafe, the dim lights casting shadows across their faces and masking Akatane's puffy eyes and red cheeks. Koigakubo orders soba for himself and katsudon for Akatane who doesn't even wonder how he knew that was his favorite.

They hadn't spoken since Koigakubo had beckoned him to follow, but the silence isn't uncomfortable, Akatane gets the sense that Koigakubo is not a man of many words. Besides, Akatane has plenty to think about, what with going crazy and all that.

When they're finally seated, steaming bowls of food in front of them and chopsticks in hand, Koigakubo is the first to speak up, another apology bursting from his lips.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to assume…" he gestures to the katsudon that Akatane is picking apart with his chopsticks. He'd left his appetite on the train.

"That's alright, I'm not very hungry anyway. Any other day it's my favorite."

"It's his, too…" the words are little more than a whisper, but Akatane catches them.

"Whose? Your friend?" He'd almost forgotten Deku, but the mention of him offers some clarity to the situation. Koigakubo is probably just projecting their friendship onto him because he reminded Koigakubo of Deku. Though a little creepy, it's much less alarming than the idea that he was having lunch with some random person who followed him around all day. Not that he was alarmed, just that he thought he probably should be.

"Yes, my partner…" Akatane blushes and sputters at the word, the broth he'd been sipping spewing from his mouth and onto the table.

"Partner?" he wheezes. He can't help but feel like he's overreacting (he's not even going to acknowledge the way his stomach had flipped when Koigakubo said it.)

"Yes?" There's confusion in Koigakubo's tone as he continues, and something like longing is woven through his words, "we've been working together for years, since high school actually."

"Oh." Akatane hates the disappointment that forms a pit in his stomach. "Where is he?"

Koigakubo's head snaps up at that, brow lowered in thought. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on, "we were working a case and he… got lost."

"Case? What are you like a cop, then?"

"Something like that."

"Is that what you're doing here? Looking for Deku?"

"Yes."

"Any luck?"

"More than I could hope."

Akatane nods and looks down, surprised to find that he's managed to eat more than a couple of bites of pork cutlet. A determination he hasn't felt in years, didn't know was still there, rises up and speaks for him, "I can help you look for him." Anything to wipe the sorrow from those eyes and pull a real smile from his lips. Besides, he rationalizes, even if he was stalking him, he also saved his life which has to count for something.

It's silent for a few moments and Akatane can feel Koigakubo's eyes on him. When he looks up he finds them studying him carefully.

"Okay." Koigakubo finally says with a nod.

The smile that graces Akatane's face is wide and blinding and full of hope.

* * *

They form something like a friendship over the week that follows. (Akatane guesses anyway, he's never really had a friend.)

Between shifts at the grocery store and daily classes, they walk through the city bathed in orange, drink tea at Akatane's breakfast bar, eat soba and katsudon anywhere they can find it. Koigakubo tells Akatane about Deku, and, by extension, himself. Tells him about how Deku had saved him, had been his first friend, had taught him to be a hero. The story is vague and some of the details don't sit right with Akatane, like Koigakubo had gotten them wrong. It's not his story though, he wasn't there, so he bites his tongue and watches the way the brown in Koigakubo's eyes shine, or the obvious fondness for his friend as he recalls the years they had known each other. The longer he speaks the more certain Akatane becomes that Koigakubo is, in fact, in love with Deku, even if he hasn't admitted it to himself yet. He does his best to ignore the flutter in his chest that erupts at the thought.

In return, Akatane shares his own story. It's not something he likes to think about, but he can't seem to help it when it comes to Koigakubo, who is patient and warm and speaks with more than a little snark. He finds himself wanting to tell Koigakubo, even if it means reliving taunts, sorrow, and heartbreak over a broken dream. It's not much to tell, but Koigakubo listens raptly, collects every little morsel Akatane is willing to spare.

(He's also becoming increasingly aware that in all the time they've spent together they have not actually done any real searching. When he tries to bring it up, Koigakubo says he's got it under control and that Akatane has been helping immensely. Except he hasn't done anything at all.)

By the end of the week, half of the city is on fire and there are only a handful of buildings that still have power. Akatane is surprised they haven't called for an evacuation or state of emergency, but he wouldn't have anywhere to go if they did, so he counts himself lucky and trudges forward.

Ash rains down over near constant darkness and Akatane convinces himself that it's the reason he's seeing images and faces shift in rapid succession. The picture of his mom that sits on the bookshelf morphs into a tiny woman with green hair and kind eyes, and his chest aches at the sight. A businessman stands on the train next to him with black hair that shines almost blue and he sees rectangular glasses and a strong sense of order.

His dreams are growing more vivid now, too. The boy at the center of the flames is clearer so that Akatane can see the striking blue of his left eye and the familiarity of the brown in his right. When he wakes there are words stuck to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter, words that hold power he can't seem to grasp. The pain in his hands is a dull throb now, and it doesn't go away.

He doesn't tell anyone. There's no one to tell besides Koigakubo anyway, and he doesn't want to ruin their budding friendship with something as burdensome as his declining mental health.

* * *

Saturday morning finds Akatane sitting on a hill in the park with Koigakubo at his side, staring out at the black and red city as their lungs labor over the smoke in the air.

Koigakubo is quieter than usual, seems to be working something out and Akatane doesn't mind the silence, glad to simply have the company before his shift starts.

After what seems like hours, Koigakubo speaks, "this probably won't make any sense, but, even if it didn't change anything I'm glad I came."

There's a sense of defeat to his words and it sours Akatane's stomach to hear. He doesn't know what to say to make it better, but he tries anyway. "I'm glad you did, too. He might still be out there y'know?"

Koigakubo smiles a little at that, but just like the rest it doesn't quite fill his face. "Yeah. Maybe,"  
And then he's taking them both by surprise, "Akatane, can I- would it be alright if I kissed you?"

The blush on his face matches the flames that frame it and there's so much determination in Koigakubo's eyes when he looks at him that he hardly has the chance to feel embarrassed.

"I- um, what about Deku?"

Koigakubo's eyes soften, "something tells me he won't mind if you don't."

Before he can stop himself, Akatane is nodding and leaning forward, he's never been kissed before, but he has a feeling he might not get the chance again. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad that it was Koigakubo who would be his first and last.

There's a hand on his cheek, surprisingly cold considering the heat billowing into the air around them, then soft lips are pressing against his own and he melts.

It's not much, as far as kisses go, little more than a peck, but something in Akatane rejoices, he's waited years- years?- for this and it's better than he ever could have imagined. Almost unreal. And, for a split second, no longer than the blink of an eye, he knows it is.

When they part and Akatane looks into Koigakubo's eyes, the hope there is so bright it burns. He cowers a little at it, pales at the weight of it. He can't help but feel that he's let Koigakubo down, though he doesn't know how.

There's a blush on Koigakubo's face as he looks away, laughs a little mirthlessly, "well, it was worth a shot."

"I- yeah," is all Akatane has to say, disappointment replacing the warmth that had been there only a moment ago. "Anyway, I'll um, I've got to go to work. I'll see you later? My place?"

"Of course," Koigakubo says as he goes to stand, offering Akatane his hand and helping him to his feet.

* * *

Akatane is only an hour and a half into his shift when the lights go out. He knows the second the store is bathed in black that he just lost his job. There isn't a backup generator in the world powerful enough to get the store running again. Hirose calls them all to the front and sends them home with a promise of a final paycheck in the mail. He would be upset if it all didn't feel a little pointless with the city burning down around them.

He sends Koigakubo a text to tell him he's done a little early and they can meet at his place whenever. Koigakubo's response is immediate, he'll be there in twenty.

When Akatane sees that the trains are no longer running, he tells Koigakubo that he'll be late. Koigakubo is already there and tells him he'll get the tea started.

Akatane's steps are heavy as he walks the forty or so blocks back to his apartment, equal parts excited to see his friend and embarrassed by the awkwardness and brevity of the kiss. There are buildings spontaneously combusting all around him and all of the store fronts are dark and empty. The city is silent and Akatane hopes that it's because people finally cut their losses and left, found someplace safe that's not cloaked in smoke and flame.

Turning the corner onto his street, Akatane realizes that even his building is dark now. The lights permanently out. Though he knows it was inevitable at this point, he can't help the irritation and fear that rises in him. This really is the end.

He's ambling up the steps and fishing for his keys in his bag when the building catches fire right in front of his eyes.

The rubber-band breaks then and the pounding in his head blinds him as he stares into the flames. There's no time to think or plan or run away. All he knows is Koigakubo is in there, in his apartment, making tea and waiting for him. No one else is coming to help. There is no one else, only him.

Just like at the train, his body moves before his brain has a chance to catch up. This time, there isn't a grip on his arm to hold him back. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he plunges himself into the flames. There's a scene playing out around him, shadows on the walls and figures in the fire. A young boy with green hair and determination in every step runs along beside him, headed to save someone when no one else will. A voice booms and echoes around him, tells the boy he is a hero, that this is the first step.

Akatane is burning and his lungs are full of gravel but he doesn't slow as he races up the stairs. The boy in his vision is beginning to look familiar now as he watches him do his best to help anyone he can, and the voice brings tears to his eyes as it speaks loud and full of admiration for him. His head pounds and pounds, marking every step his feet take on the way to the fourth floor.

Finally, finally, he reaches his apartment, wraps his hand around the handle and ignores the way his skin sloughs off as he turns it and pulls the door open.

He stops moving when he sees him. Standing in the middle of the room with his back to the door, surrounded by flames that don't burn. It's Koigakubo, but it's not. There's words on the tip of his tongue, a name he can almost remember, but the hammer hitting the inside of his skull won't let up long enough for him to find it.

Then Koigakubo is turning toward him, looking at him. One eye ice blue, the other deep brown. His red and white hair is parted so that it hangs over the scar that covers the left side of his face. He's both a boy with blank eyes and a challenge on his lips and a man with a small smile that shines just for him. All the years they've known each other illuminated by the most radiant shades of orange and red he's ever seen.

It's enough. It's all he needs. The pieces fall into place and the ache in his head disappears as the memories flood in. He remembers. He remembers.

"Shouto!" Izuku cries and the world goes black.

 **AN: Thanks for reading! Hope you stick around to find out what happened :):)**


	3. Chapter 3

Izuku doesn't have time to register the all-consuming darkness before he's being propelled forward through over-saturated lights and colors and sounds. Wind rushes by his ears and lifts his fluffy curls as though he's running with One for All activated at one hundred percent. (He's right, but he doesn't know it. If he looked down he'd see familiar green electricity wrapped like tendrils around his limbs.)

When he finally comes to a stop, it's abrupt and he's surprised when he doesn't stumble forward and land face first in what looks like the apartment he'd grown up in. The room is a blur around him and he can just make out the shapes of his four-year-old self and his mother. His mind fills in the gaps as he watches them race around the living room, him in his signature All Might onesie while his mother plays the villain. There's warmth and joy all around him and he can't help the smile that graces his face.

Someone pushes fast forward and now they are in a doctor's office. His chest aches as he remembers the doctor's words, which are muffled and muted here, but as clear as day in his memory. There are echoes of resentment and soul-crushing disappointment as he watches his mother cry and fail to console him. He understands, he's always understood. (It still hurts.)

It picks up then, scenes playing like a movie trailer of his life. There's Kacchan, refusing his help and pushing him down. Here are his classmates laughing and prodding when he claims he's going to be a hero. He'd always be a useless Deku to them and the raw emptiness of his stomach suffocates him, makes him realize he maybe isn't as over it as he's always claimed.

Now he's actually suffocating. Slime curling up around his body and down his throat. His eyes sting as he watches them water, remembers the way he had nearly succumbed to the end.

Lucky All Might showed up when he did, and, when he does, he is shining and clear where the world around him lies just out of focus. To Izuku, All Might has always been a beacon, pulling him towards the inevitability of his future. Even if he didn't know it at the time.

He doesn't need to see All Might disappear into a cloud of smoke, or hear the words that don't quite reach his ears, to feel the cracks growing in his resolve. His last hope and it turns out there was no reason to hope at all.

But then then he is running without a second thought, racing forward and hurling his backpack into the sludge encasing his childhood friend. He's pulling and ripping and reaching for Kacchan when the air around him shifts. With a boom, All Might blows the villain away. (There are no words for the relief he feels, even if he's already lived it.)

He's crying in the streets, deep, shuddering tears as All Might stands before him, clear even in his deflated form as he brings a hopeless dream to life. He clears Dagoba Beach, breaks most of his bones in the entrance exam, survives the first day of class and the attack on USJ in a blur.

The next time he stops moving he's standing in the center of a sports field. In front of him is himself, manic grin and all determination as he breaks another finger on fast approaching ice. He doesn't need to turn around to see the boy behind him. The image of a rapidly freezing figure with frustration in his eyes has been glued to his conscious since the moment he first saw it.

"It's your power!" He screams along with the fuzzed out image of his younger self, the words no longer just out of reach.

Victory ignites in his chest at the same moment the flames do and he's being pulled forward again. There's a dark alley and impossible fights, more impossible than any of them were ready for, cementing friendships that had once seemed just as impossible.

Scenes and snapshots play out right before his eyes, twenty students learning and growing and fighting side by side until they knew each other's Quirks like the back of their own hands. (There are quiet moments too, studying with Uraraka and Iida and Shouto, movie nights, and trips to the mall. His memory supplies him with Shouto's quiet grin, sitting closer than necessary, sparring with a glint of amusement in his eyes.)

Graduation day and Shouto is standing in front of the sun, the light of which frames him in bright oranges and yellows so that he shines. Izuku almost tells him then, but fear holds him back, so he bites his tongue and asks Shouto to start an agency with him. His response is immediate and enthusiastic.

Time speeds up then, and Izuku can hardly register the images flashing by, but he doesn't need to see them to remember the villains they faced or the civilians they saved and the ones they couldn't. (Their faces are stained to his mind's eye and he sees them on a crowded train, in dark streets, in the aisles of a grocery store like memories from a life he never really lived.)

Izuku never gets the chance to tell him after all, they're too busy working overtime and rising in the ranks until they are the number one hero team by the age of twenty-five. His feelings never dissipate though, only seem to grow stronger as the years knit them closer and closer together.

When he finally stops moving, and he does, eventually, stop. He's in his office, paperwork cluttered across the desk around him and bags under his eyes as he stares at his computer, scrounging databases for any crumbs he can find. The screen glitches when he looks over his own shoulder, but he doesn't need to see the text to know what it says.

Dreammaker is a surprisingly gentle name for a Quirk that belongs to a villain called Nightmare Fuel, but then, Izuku knows how events can shape a person, make them into something they never wanted to be or do things they never thought they could.

It's a three-year-old newspaper article about a man named Tada Hatsuo who uses his Quirk, Dreammaker, to help people with PTSD. He sends them into a peaceful sleep, curates the emotions of their dreams. When used properly, Dreammaker can help victims work through their trauma in a safe, controlled environment. The article hails him a hero, though he humbly denies the claim.

Izuku watches an out of focus version of himself shuffling through the mess on his desk, procuring a police report that he had practically memorized. An attack by a villain with an unknown Quirk. He remembers the highlighted name of Tada Hatsuo in the list of victims.

Attached are two hospital charts, people sent into comas and dying forty-eight hours later. The listed cause is a Quirk accident, he doesn't need to see Tada's name to know he was involved.

He's moving again, his body tumbling forward through no will of his own as he watches the faces of news anchors describing a rise in attacks by a villain called Nightmare Fuel. Victims falling into comas. The amount of time they stay that way fluctuates, but the results are always the same.

This time, when he finds his body at a standstill, he's in a lab next to Shouto, Mei and her assistant standing across from them. Mei is describing her latest baby, a machine she and Izuku had conceptualized. One that would allow the user to send images and sounds into the conscious of the afflicted. Maybe even eventually another human conscious, but it hadn't been done before and time was not on their side. (Izuku realizes in that moment that the hypothesis he'd formed based on years of Quirk studies had been correct, the victims could save themselves if they discovered they were only dreaming. Too bad he had to experience it himself and risk his best friend's life to prove it.)

The lab shifts and dissolves. He sees the shadow figures of himself and Shouto, knows they are arguing about the two latest victims. They're both chomping at the bit to take Nightmare Fuel down, but they promise to wait for Mei's baby, a necessary precaution that neither of them cares for so they take it out on each other.

Izuku falls through the floor and lands hard on a rooftop. In front of him, Shouto sits on the ledge watching as Izuku paces, muttering under his breath into the night sky. It's a stakeout, they've been searching for Nightmare Fuel's hideout for months and might've finally found it, but it's still too early to move in.

He lets out an audible breath of relief when Shouto rests a hand on his shoulder, halting his thoughts and grounding him. It's too dark and fuzzy to really see, but Izuku knows there is concern in his soft gaze and can feel the weight of a phantom hand where Shouto is gripping him.

The moon glows bright and white above them and Shouto's touch is comforting and gentle. Words pass between them, but he doesn't remember what they were and they're too muted to hear. All he knows is the reassurance in Shouto's face and the belief he has in their ability to save and protect. (He promised himself he would tell him when this is all over. Tired of waiting for a day when life would slow down. A day that would probably never come.)

Though he knows it's coming, he doesn't have time to prepare himself for the inevitable crash. The sound of footsteps on the roof. The mass of petty villains moving in. It's an ambush they aren't prepared for, but they aren't the number one duo for nothing.

Limbs light up neon green and he hardly sees himself rush into the fray, Shouto at his back, promising his support from behind. He punches and kicks, knocking out villains left and right as fire and ice erupt around him. From an outside view, the scene is beautiful. All strength and resolve lit up in shades of orange and ice blue as the villains go down one by one. He loses track of Shouto, but trusts that his partner can hold his own as he always has.

It's like hours go by, Izuku can feel the exhaustion seeping in as he fights and fights. Worry rising in him when he notices that the fire is out and the ice is dwindling. He throws one last punch, powered by One for All at 10%, and whips around the moment the villain falls, eyes searching the scene for a familiar head of red and white.

When he sees him, he can't help the grin that makes its way onto his face, matches the one on his out of focus counterpart. He remembers the smile Shouto had returned, only for the briefest second, before his eyes had widened and horror painted his features.

"Izuku!" is the last thing he hears before the world turns to black.

* * *

It takes Izuku a moment to realize that the darkness he's experiencing is the back of his own eyelids, to register the sound of the heart monitor to his left, someone crying to his right. He's disoriented and somehow exhausted, even though he had just slept for at least forty-eight hours, probably longer. It's not relief or happiness that he feels, but anger and worry. The terror in Shouto's face is still so fresh that it forces his eyes open, turns his head to the right to see, not Shouto sitting by his bed, but Ochako, face red and swollen with tears that contrast with the excitement in her eyes when she realizes he's awake.

He's glad to see her, but the beeping in the room picks up when he looks around only to realize that Shouto isn't there. Izuku can't stop the tears that flood down his face and he doesn't see Ochako run for the door, hear her call for Recovery Girl. His thoughts are all Shouto Shouto Shouto and he won't calm down until he knows that he's okay, that he made it out and wasn't killed or trapped in some in between of consciousness.

Ochako is standing next to him now, urgent words falling from her lips as she tries to console him. Tears run down her face and land on her hands which have reached out and gripped Izuku's tight. The touch is gentle and comforting in its familiarity. It's enough to remind him to take a breath, enough for him to hear her say, "he's okay."

He hadn't realized he was speaking out loud, but the words reach his ears and are the only thing he can seem to make sense of.

"Oh," he manages and the two stare at each other for a moment before Ochako releases his hands and pulls him into a tight hug. He relaxes a little as she cries into his shoulder. He has so many questions, there's so much he doesn't know, but he can't find his voice.

It only lasts a moment before Recovery Girl is coming through the door, chastising him for his recklessness as she always has. "... and tell your boyfriend not to go sneaking into labs and hijacking equipment that could potentially kill him. I swear you're an awful influence on that man."

Maybe once, maybe even a month ago, or last week, depending on how long he'd been out, Izuku would have blushed and denied the teasing, but he's made up his mind and hopes that soon it will be the truth.

Ochako leaves to find the others while Recovery Girl checks him over, explaining that they'd been taking turns sitting with him between patrols. Everyone except Shouto, of course, who, immediately upon waking, set himself in the seat next to Izuku's bed and waited. It was only today that Ochako and Iida had managed to convince him that he should go for a walk, get some fresh air, distract himself.

Recovery Girl continues to berate him for his foolishness even as she fills him in. He'd been out for six days, give or take about five hours or so. Shouto went after him at the twenty-four-hour mark and his condition took a turn. (In the back of his mind he's standing in a grocery store, listening to people he couldn't remember talk about someone he didn't know he was.)

"Your fever shot up around the time he went missing and by the time we found him you were both suffering from near-fatal temperatures. Didn't think you'd make it to the thirty-six-hour mark, but you did."

"And Nightmare Fuel?"

"Reinforcements showed up just in time to see you go down, captured him. He's in custody, won't talk to anyone though."

"Maybe if I…" Izuku began to sit up, but Recovery Girl's hand on his shoulder keeps him down.

"You will do nothing until I have deemed you well enough to get out of this bed. We have plenty of tests to run before I'm prepared to give you a clean bill of health." He might know it's true, but it doesn't stop him from groaning and crossing his arms over one another as he leans back against the headboard, eyes sullen as he watches Recovery Girl look over the monitors.

They don't sit in silence for long before Izuku hears the creak of the door opening. When he turns his head to welcome the newcomer, his breath hitches and his glare intensifies.

There's a subtle blush on Shouto's cheeks and he can't seem to look at him. Izuku can't help the relief that floods his chest, but he doesn't soften his stare, he's angry, too.

Recovery Girl glances between them before excusing herself with the promise that she'd be back to check his vitals in a few hours.

Shouto doesn't approach his bed or speak when she leaves, just stands there, staring at the floor until Izuku can't stand it any longer.

"You idiot," Izuku begins and it surprises Shouto enough to pull his gaze from the floor so that Izuku can see the tear stains glistening in the fluorescent white light.

"I'm sorry," he says as he takes a step closer.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Izuku laments even as his own tears track down his face.

"I couldn't- I had to," Shouto replies like it's obvious, his steps are slow and careful as he moves to stand at Izuku's left side, looks at him carefully.

"Why?" is all Izuku can manage through the lump in his throat.

"I wanted to be your hero for once," Shouto reaches forward and takes his hand, holds it gently in his own, rubs circles into it with his thumb. "But you saved me again anyway."

"Asshole," Izuku hiccups, but there's no malice in his voice and Shouto smiles. It's small and muffled by tears, but it's there.

For a moment, Izuku sees Koigakubo and a smile that was never quite there, sees the fondness in his eyes as he spoke so unabashedly about Deku, sees the quiet thoughtfulness in his gaze before he asks to kiss him.

Someone else might've taken the whole debacle as a sign that they should definitely not take the leap they'd been dancing around for the last ten years. Feelings make them reckless, sure, but they also make them strong. Shouto brought Izuku hope at the end of the world in shades of burnt orange and it was enough.

Surviving the apocalypse really put a new perspective on his fears and anxieties, made him recognize their uselessness. Shouto would always be by his side, and it seems silly now, after everything, to deny themselves the love they'd held secret for so long. Absurd really, to wait for the world to quiet long enough for them to have each other, when they always had anyway.

There's a sly smile on his lips when he finally speaks again, "true love's kiss, huh?"

A bright red blush erupts on Shouto's face, but his voice is monotone as ever, "figured all those Disney movies you made me watch might've finally come in handy."

Izuku laughs a little at that, like bubbles bursting in his throat. Nerves threaten to take over, but he does his best to quell them, swallows thickly and says, "Shouto, I-"

He's cut off by the press of warm lips against his own, a cold hand rests on his face as his breath hitches. The kiss they had shared as Koigakubo and Akatane, now little more than a faint sequence of images from a dream, pales in comparison to this. It's soggy and sticky and Izuku is sure his mouth tastes awful (he hasn't brushed his teeth in days), but he's not thinking about that as Shouto's lips move against his, pull him in and comfort him in all the ways that he always has.

It's over too soon, with Shouto pulling away and resting his forehead against Izuku's, eyes closed and wet eyelashes resting on his cheeks. "I love you," it's little more than a whisper riding a quiet exhale, but it's enough.

"I love you, too," Izuku confesses, though it's not much of a confession at this point, "so promise you'll never do that again."

"You either," Shouto responds with another quick peck of the lips.

"I was ambushed!"

Shouto's look is reproachful, "you let me distract you."

"I was just making sure you were okay." Izuku pouts in response.

Heterochromatic eyes soften, "you should know I've always got your back."

Izuku nods as he's reminded of a dark alley, a burst of flame, a voice that sounds like hope, sees years of learning side by side, sparring and pushing and saving each other.

And they both know, have known since that sports field where fingers were broken and a friendship was forged in flames that no longer burned.

No matter where they go, they will always save each other.

(and maybe neither one is that sorry, not for those few quiet moments when they got to be Koigakubo and Akatane, keeping each other company at the end of the world)

 **AN: Well, friends, we did it. Villains with tragic backstories, boys in love, and tropes on tropes. I'd love to know what you think! Comments keep me growing. Come cry with me at .com! (Feel free to ask anything, I've got headcanons for days regarding this fic) Thanks for reading!**


End file.
